You notice his gaze immediately. Even before he says anything. You're leaning against the wall, arms crossed, your clothes loose, dark, functional, almost like his. "Do you dress like this on purpose?" His voice is calm, but sharp. You raise an eyebrow. "Like this?"

Simon Riley steps closer, his gaze hard, fixed on you. "Like one of us." A brief moment. You snort softly. "So?" He stops right in front of you. "I don't like it." The words come without hesitation.

His hand reaches for your sleeve, gently pulling the fabric between his fingers. "You're not one of us." His gaze lifts, meeting yours. Intense. Possessive. "You shouldn't look like this." You cross your arms tighter. "Maybe I want to."

A soft, raspy laugh escapes him not amused. "No." His fingers slide to your hips, pulling you a little closer. "You're hiding what's yours."